Okay so I'm going to talk about lap dances. For the squeamish among you, there is no need to go further. (thus guaranteeing that everyone will read further.)
Several years ago, I'm thinking three or four, we were out for my birthday. Sometimes it is fun to finish the night at a stripclup ogling the boys on stage. Certainly when I first visited Montreal in '95 and on subsequent visits, I behaved as most Americans do, my eyes about fell out of my head (while other things pressed from their confines) when I saw what a real gay stripclub could be. Short of the guy I saw jack off on stage once in a seedy San Francisco jizz stenched theater (don't ask) the boys here do everything but. I had been to "strip clubs" in the states but they were more like "ladies night" up here. I don't like to go on ladies night, the boys on stage turn into coy things, just a little flash of the junk here, a little ass cleavage there. Tame. Boring. No, I much prefer the guys walking out sporting a rock hard-on and waving it around like a trophy. Ahem. So the dancers do their thing on stage and then they circulate among the patrons watching in the audience. It's a stage with bar tables all around. The dancers are very friendly and inquisitive, as I'm sure tourists are an easy target. They offer to take you in back for "contact dance" for $20 a song. The songs are all 3 minutes as they go with the performances on stage. It is best to establish the exact number of songs you are willing to pay for, or you stand a chance of being taken advantage of. Scrupulous, nude dancers are not. Double ahem.
The booth. So it's my birthday and spouse knows I've had a thing for years about one particular dancer. Anyway, Serge says to go ahead and "buy" him, he'll pay (I love spouse). So he gives me $40 and I go to find Daniel, his stage name. I tell him I want two songs and he takes me into his room, says I can do anything I want except penetration and then works on himself a bit to get, err, more attentive. (Insert thrillingness here.) At the end of the two songs, he says he will give me two more songs if I massage his back. So I do and then I pay.
So at the market Thursday, that's the guy who mistook my cart for his while we were both perusing the veggies. He, of course, had no recollection of me.